Feather Pillows
by Loony Kit - ZenyattaDoll
Summary: Dean didn't even know where most of them came from, honestly. They just started appearing... Heavy fluff, Destiel, Dean/Castiel, Rated T just to be super safe.


Had this bouncing around in my head for a few days, decided to get it out so I could focus on other stories I have going.

As always many thanks to my brightly colored fighting fish The March Hatter, I wouldn't have posted this if she hadn't convinced me to, so if you like it go show her some love.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the copyright or licensing. Done for personal amusement, no monetary gain was made.

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Feather Pillows

Dean had originally thought Cas' incessant affinity for pillows would be a bit annoying. As it turned out, he didn't mind so much. Like most everything else Cas did Dean just found it endearing, and slightly amusing. Also, to be fair, Cas' collection of pillows were useful for more than just one bed time activity, so Dean didn't protest. He didn't even know where most of them came from, honestly. They just started appearing after Cas had spent a restless night tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable with his wings and Dean had suggested lying on a pillow to see if it would help any.

The next day there was an extra one here, the day after that another two there, until they had somewhere between fifteen to twenty pillows. There were any and all kinds that you could imagine; flat ones, full ones, soft ones, firm ones, cotton ones, foam ones; the only kind they didn't have were down. Yeah, Sam had made that mistake with a well-meaning, but poorly thought out gift. Giving someone with a set of feather wings pillows stuffed with feather down, ripped off whatever dead goose, probably would have made for a better threat than a gift.

Anyway, ever since then going to bed at night was always a bit of a production. Dean had learned a long time ago to not try and help Cas position them. Cas never arranged them the same way twice, but there did appear to be a formula he followed: the flatter ones went on the bottom with the softer ones lining where he planned to lie. He always seemed to put a lot of thought into it– everything had to be just so –and Dean enjoyed watching the process. During the day most of the pillows ended up stacked in the corner chair, and just before bed Cas could be found staring intently at the stack as if building a mental blue print for what he wanted that night.

Dean was always amused by the way Cas' wings would react as he thought his way through making his side of the bed comfortable. When he was deep in thought they tended to droop slightly and he would only remember them when the edges of his pristine flight feathers dusted the floor. Whenever Cas became confused because he couldn't find a pillow needed or the layering was a bit off, his feathers would puff up ever so slightly and the tips of his wings would flick as if trying to shake off the unsettled feeling. Dean wasn't above hiding or moving one of Cas' pillows so he could get to see him ruffled and Cas wasn't above cuffing Dean over the head with his wing when he realized what Dean had done. And if Dean was so inclined and played his cards right he could earn himself a little bit more than that.

He would use them for balance whenever he crawled across the bed to make adjustments and his feathers would often graze Dean's side as he moved about. Dean sometimes suspected that Cas did this on purpose, because Dean would reflexively move to lazily pet the 'offending' feathers. But what Dean like most was when he used his wings to help move pillows into place or pull them nearer when they were out of his casual reach. Dean would call him lazy for doing this, but he liked how natural the use of his wings was to the angel, they weren't just props stuck onto a vessel for effect– they were very much a part of him. They were often more expressive than his face and added so much to his personality that Dean didn't want to say anything that might curb him from utilizing his wings in every way that came naturally to him.

In the end, Cas always pulled together something to his liking and Dean never had any complaints. Truth be told he found it gave him a sense of security to have the warmth of another person in front of him and barricade of pillows running along his back. Even Dean wasn't immune from Cas' bedding habits. Early on, Dean had woken up one morning to find that Cas had braced his back with three pillows and had stuck another under his side. When Dean had asked Cas about it, he simply replied: 'you had rolled away from me in your sleep… I didn't like it.' So as it went, Dean found it was best to just get in bed first and let Cas work around him, though he had to be firm about Cas not taking the pillows for his head. Dean had gotten them just the way he liked and Cas wasn't going to usurp them. Even when he didn't sleep with his wings out, their bed was still a mountain of fluff covered in mismatched pillowcases.

Dean had once commented on Cas' nesting habits and had to laugh at how Cas' wings went limp and his face slackened as he crouched on their bed, pillow in hand. His wing landed with such a hilarious deadpan thump that he almost didn't mind the huffy lecture on how having feathers didn't necessarily make you a member of the avian family. But Cas settled down next to Dean that night, no less close than usual and Dean got his accustomed blanket of warm feathers. Now that Cas had indefinite permission to be in Dean's personal space, he never missed an opportunity to do so.

Cas had never once tried to deny Dean physical affection or held any of their fights (if they could even be called that) against him. Once, Dean had asked him why and Cas had said there was no point in holding on to meaningless tiffs. He said it wasn't worth the effort, but Dean knew that wasn't true. Cas did a lot of things that weren't worth his effort, like eating and drinking. Cas didn't need to eat or drink, but he did. Cas also didn't need to sleep at night, but he did. Cas didn't need to love Dean either, but he did.


End file.
